Kisara's Story, Take Two
by KolaByNikola
Summary: What if we knew the story of that bright haired young woman, who housed a white dragon within her soul and captured the love of a blue-eyed priest? An idea that simply grew too big to keep in my head, and my rewritten version of my original.
1. The Beginning of Something New

It is nighttime again, and bitter cold.

I huddled against the chill of the night under a thin sack that served as my blanket. The coarse texture scratched my skin, but I merely brushed a hand at the irritation and shrugged deeper into the slight warmth my own body provided. Beneath the scents of dirt and sweat, there is a faint reminder of my mother in the blanket, something at once comforting and painful.

She passed many seasons ago, when I was still young and my body had not yet begun to curve. Nothing and everything changed the day she passed. I still sleep on the streets, still steal to survive. I find shelter in abandoned buildings and pass my nights with fitful dreams of ivory towers. These dreams have long been a part of my nights, and my mother would simply sigh and look away when I told her the next morning. Only her sighs, her exhausted blue eyes and the warmth of her embrace are gone from my days.

I turn over and nestle with my back against the wall. I hate the winter season; the nighttime temperature drops dangerously low, and sometimes even during the day, the sun will not warm our city until it has past the midday mark. This season has been especially frigid and long. Even though the planting has begun in small gardens throughout the city, the chill has not let go of the land.

Despite the icy air around me, slumber begins to steal around the edges of my consciousness. One last sigh and I slip off into another dream.

The sounds of the market outside waken me, though slowly. I fight the last bonds of sleep away and rub my eyes; as soon as I see my dirt covered fists however, I immediately regret the action. I have no mirror but instinct tells me that brown smudges ring my eyes. I cannot remember my last bath, so perhaps they don't stand out as much as I think they do.

My stomach rumbles and I move from one basic need to the next. Rest accomplished, I must now find food. Finding food is usually synonymous with begging, and if not begging, then stealing. I have slept in the poorer section of town however, and I know scraps will be few and far between. The poor never have enough left over to feed anyone but their own families. The market then, and perhaps after that, crossing the city to a richer district. I might beg for a coin or dinner there.

The market is bustling; the sun appears about a quarter way through the sky. Despite the fairly early hour, the heat rises up from the hard packed dirt under my feet. I shiver slightly, for the air has a queer feeling. Maybe a storm is brewing. Re knows that we have yet to see rain. Despite my unease, I scout the market and note a vendor in deep conversation with the vendor of the booth next to him. A few moments later, he is a handful of dates lighter and none the wiser; I am walking briskly toward the rich part of town.

Hours pass, and I have had no luck. I am dusty, parched, and my stomach is rumbling again. Not a single coin, nor a lone crust of bread. I kick at a stubborn patch of grass that lingers in the alley, venting my frustration, but the exertion makes my head swim. I know of a well a few streets away, and decide water is necessary.

The crack of thunder takes me by surprise, and I nearly drop the bucket. It has been so long since I have heard a storm. The water fills the cracks in my mouth and throat, the flesh swells back into place. Hurriedly, I swallow another dipper-full, then head toward the docks. There are plenty of empty buildings, and some even store stacks of grains or flour. I can shelter there for the storm, and perhaps find a meal.

The rain begins to fall as I near the warehouses. Slow at first, then as if the gods themselves were armed with buckets, in sheets. Seconds after I am soaked through to my skin, the sack-like sheath I wear hanging heavy about my arms and knees. I stop, and recognize that I don't know where I am at; I had thought I was near the docks. Far away, I hear a sharp crack followed by a deep rumbling that shakes the earth beneath me. _Thunder_, I think, but the rumbling grows into a louder rushing. The sound of water falling over itself and everything in its path to be free.

In the brief moment I have stopped, the water has begun to pool about my feet. Cold liquid sucks at the hollow of my ankles, rising faster and faster. I begin to slog through the flash flood, and slosh through an alleyway into a greater open space.

Before me lay the docks and below them, the river. Chunks of wood and debris were whisked downstream by the current. Never had I seen the river in such a fury as it was now. I knew that I had to think quickly... if the dam upriver had indeed broken, then I had only a moment or two before water would flood the lake and then the city surrounding it. How high, I could not know, but I breathed deeply, and went through my mental map of the city. What was on high enough ground that the building would not flood?

"The temple!" I began to sprint through the already pooling water. The temple of Ptah, dedicated to the great caller of the earth, was one of the highest structures this close to the lake. I had passed by more than once, and when I could, left offerings in the name of the god. A great stair led up the front of the building, and surely the water would not rise that high. And the priests would not turn me away with the deluge outside?

The blocks around me were eerily quiet under the pounding of the rain, and I was sure a shiver would have crawled down my spine if I had paused for a moment. Behind me, I heard the constant rush of water falling over itself to spread further out. Over that came the occasional crash resulting from debris meeting an obstacle that it could not pass. By now, the water lapped at my knees. Running was practically impossible; I rucked my skirt up around my thighs and slogged forward.

After a few more blocks, the temple came into view. Built of pale stone from far off in the hills, the gray light from the storm cast a sort of pearly glow. Before the temple was a central plaza, where crowds would gather and hear proclamations from the palace, read by temple priests. I knew that there were stairs to the plaza, but didn't realize that I was upon them until I stumbled forward.

I didn't fall immediately; instead, I put a foot ahead and felt a searing pain radiate up my leg. I fell even farther forward, and this time entered the water. I pulled myself up quickly, cursing inwardly as I saw a dark bloom beneath the water's surface. I had stepped on something to injure my foot, obviously, but how badly... I bit my lip and tried to take another step. When I went to put weight on my bleeding foot, I couldn't help but let out a cry.

A strong current brought a branch hurtling into my ribs, and with that, I fell once more into the water. But even as I fought to find the surface, I couldn't regain my footing and the water tugged harder. I floundered, fighting the currents, but the cold certainty that accompanies near death weighed me down like a stone. Anubis could not be coming for me so soon, and yet I had lived far longer than I had thought on the streets. As I breathed water in, I prayed to the gods above, knowing that my cries would not reach their ears. I was only a young girl, and had accomplished nothing in my life. Only the powerful and earthly divine reach directly to the gods.

Just as suddenly as the water had filled my lungs, I tried to breathe again and air met my lips. All the liquid that I had swallowed rushed back up and I choked, brown water spilling forth. I coughed harder, and felt my stomach lurch. As I began to breathe normally again, I became aware of hands pulling me up, hoisting me high in the air. Rain pelted my skin again, but I inhaled the moist air with growing relief. I was being rescued. Perhaps the gods had heard me after all.

My rescuer carried me for only a moment before I felt our bodies rise; stairs appeared beneath his feet. We were at the temple steps, I guessed, and when we entered the great echoing hall, my assumptions proved true. Whatever spurred my savior to rescue me however, seemed to have disappeared with our exit from the rain. Without any warning, he pulled me back over his shoulder and dumped me unceremoniously onto a pile of cushions. I sat up and pulled the dark and sopping hair back from my eyes, peering curiously up at the young man before me.

Details became sharper as my eyes adjusted to the orange glow of torchlight. His own hair was dripping and obviously thick, dark and clinging to his forehead. A stern face, sharp nose, eyes of lapis that seemed to glow like embers. He was long and lean, but obviously muscular. The simple kilt he wore clung to his thighs and water dripped steadily from the hem. Even over the dull rumble of the storm outside, I could hear the plunk of each bead of water hitting the stone floor.

In the study of my hero, I sat frozen before him. Where had he come from? Even as he shook out his hair and then knelt before me, I could not force my limbs to move. It was only when I caught a glimpse of the puddle around my own feet that I shuddered; the water around my own feet was rosy red with the blood that flowed freely from my foot.

"Djed!" I jumped again. The man had his fingers around my foot, nimbly poking at the wound. Despite the nausea rising in my stomach, a peculiar feeling, almost a tingling, followed the man's fingertips across my ankle and foot.

"It's very deep," he muttered, to himself, I supposed. A young boy scampered in the room just then, and fell into a hasty bow before the man at my feet.

"Bandages, Djed. Fetch Isis as well." The man did not look away from my wound, but the boy fled the room in the same fashion in which he had entered.

The man released my foot and looked up at me. The full force of his eyes met me, and I was entranced. It was not unlike the snake charmers in the marketplace, that gazed so intently at the snakes before them and led them in an undulating dance.

"Thank you," I heard myself say, my voice husky. My throat smarted still from the water I had swallowed earlier. He dipped his head briefly in acknowledgment but didn't break eye contact.

"My name is Kisara." I spoke again, the words easier this time.

"Seth!"

We both whipped around to our right. Djed, clutching an oversized basket to his skinny chest, was scrambling to keep up with perhaps the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Her long black hair fanned like a cloak around her back. Long lashes framed emerald eyes that were wide with concern. In the sleek crown of her hair rested a diadem and on her elegant collarbones lay a matching choker; in the warm light of the chamber, it glinted ever so slightly, the Eye of Horus proudly displayed.

"Whatever happened?" Her voice was musically low pitched, but carried a note of alarm.

"She was caught in the storm, and obviously injured herself, Isis," Seth said, his own speech tinged with what I thought was annoyance.

Other than a small twist of her lips that confirmed Seth's apparent irritation, Isis kept her face impassive. Speaking to me, she grasped the offending foot and examined the wound.

"A bandage," she called, and Djed fished a white linen from the basket. I could not help but gasp slightly as she pressed the bandage firmly to the wound. "This will help staunch the blood," she explained, maintaining the pressure. An odd throbbing quickened in my veins but faded nearly as soon as it had appeared.

"Seth, if you will." Isis nodded at my foot and Seth took hold of the bandage, holding the linen tightly. Isis looked up at me, her green eyes still wide with concern, but a calm on her features that belied the severity of my injury. "What is your name?"

"I am Kisara," I answered simply.

"Kisara," she repeated, rolling the name around on her tongue. "That is a lovely name. Are you from Egypt then, or perhaps a northern country?"

"I was born here, but I have no knowledge of my _aku_," I replied honestly. For that much was true. My mother had plainly been of Egyptian descent but any question of my other ancestors was always deflected.

"A shame, for our ancestors are always a comfort," Isis said, a shadow crossing her brow. "Well, Kisara, your injury is deep but clean. I shall have to sew it, but it should heal quickly after that."

"Sew it?" I must have paled visibly, for Isis put a steadying hand on my shoulder.

"If the idea frightens you, I can give you a light sleeping draught," she said with a gentle smile. She seemed to generate a warmth, and though the idea of a needle piercing my skin like cloth was not a comforting one, I relaxed slightly under her touch.

"Seth," Isis turned to look at him, "if you will let me bind her foot, would you carry her to the guest chamber? I will send some food and drink up, and water to wash her foot."

Seth nodded in assent, and Isis quickly bound my foot with deft fingers. I watched in fascination as her long fingers wrapped and tied the linen bandages. I could feel the light scrape of her callouses against my skin and was strangely calmed.

Seth knelt and lifted me as though I were a child, then carried me silently into the darker hall from which Isis and Djed had emerged. I leaned my head against his shoulder, suddenly too exhausted to hold it upright. I felt a cool breeze and had a sense of green light before I shut my eyes to the world. I swear I was asleep before Seth laid me on the bed.

"Pharaoh?" Isis stirred from her meditations and inclined her head toward the figure in the doorway. "I was expecting you." His figure was blurred at the edges through the cloud of incense smoke.

"I'm sure you were, Isis," he answered wryly, and entered the chamber. As he knelt next to her, she caught a hint of amusement in his usually guarded face.

"Will you be staying the evening, Pharaoh?"

"Seth tells me it is too dangerous to journey back to the palace tonight. The passageways are still flooded and the streets as well. I sent several guards back on a bark, and have instructed the viziers to post the army in the streets as soon as the waters recede. Already they are half the depth they were. And of course the temples will offer double rations of grain for the immediate future." Pharaoh let out a sigh, and she could feel his muscles relax next to her. His shoulders were young ones to be burdened with such responsibility. It had only been crisis after catastrophe since his father's death a year ago, and Isis knew that Pharaoh cared deeply for his people.

"A wise decision," she said simply. "I fear there will be many casualties like young Kisara. Ptah and all the temples shall be readied for any wounded."

"Kisara?" Without looking, she knew that Pharaoh wore a look of consternation, complete with furrowed brow. He made an effort to know the names of the many priests and priestess, as well as the countless guards and servants who worked close to him. "Not one of your priestesses?"

Isis chose her words delicately. "No. She is a beggar, I believe. But such circumstances were beyond her control. Her kaa is most surprising. Despite her age, I sense that her kaa is as strong as my own. It would simply be a matter of tapping into it."

Pharaoh shifted next to her, suddenly tense. He turned to look at Isis, though she kept her face directed at the altar before her. The smoke stung at her eyes but she was quite used to the feeling. It seemed as natural as the air she required to breathe.

"Might I meet this girl?" His question was casual, but Isis read the intent beneath it clearly. "She might be this missing piece. Your prophesy-"

"She is resting," Isis interrupted, her voice brooking no argument. "Seth said she was asleep before he reached the room and she did not stir once while I stitched her foot." In a kinder tone, she added, "It was indeed fate that brought her to our door, and fate that Seth was there to rescue her as he did."

"Where is she now?"

"I have her resting in the Green Room. There will be time once the sun rises again and she wakes." Isis closed her eyes and murmured a quick prayer before rising. One by one, she snuffed out the candles, save one taper at the center of the altar.

"Were you scrying?"

Pharaoh rose beside her and fixed his violet eyes on her own emerald ones. The weak light that the single taper provided threw the hollows in his face into greater prominence.

"Yes."

"Did you see anything?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact."

"What was it?"

"Now is not the time." Isis smiled serenely, in a way she knew infuriated Pharaoh and the other priests not blessed with the Sight themselves. Best to take her secret pleasures as she could. "Worry not, Pharaoh, there is no ill wind blowing through Egypt now."

"How I pray for your peace of mind, Isis," Pharaoh replied, irritation faint in his tone.

"Allow me to show you to your room, Pharaoh." Knowing that he would not argue further, Isis gestured toward the door. But it was not a coincidence that the room she placed Pharaoh in shared a balcony with Kisara's room. Fate will take its course, Isis thought before shutting the door on her scrying chamber. The single candle in the room flickered, before plunging the room into darkness.


	2. Decisions

It might have been only hours or days later that I awoke, but sunlight broke through the narrow windows and into my dreams. I stirred restlessly, and blinked open my eyes. My surroundings caused me to stiffen and immediately shake off the last vestiges of sleep. Never in my life had I awoken in a furnished room.

Slowly, I let my muscles relax. The thin sheet was a cool barrier between my skin and the always heavy air of Egypt. The bed beneath me cupped every curve, hollow and angle of my body, an entirely new experience. As I relaxed, the memories of the previous... well, the last time I had been awake, came flooding back.

I remembered Seth carrying me to this room, and a warm green light. I had awoken some time later to Isis' hand cool on my forehead. In a fog, she had fed me broth and bread, and given me a clean sheath dress. All the while, she had spoken in her melodic voice, but I barely registered the words. After I had changed clothes, she had helped me back to bed and taken the bandage off my foot; before she could do more, I had drifted back into slumber.

The ivory tower had come clearer to me in my dreams this time. It stood in the middle of lake, under the earth and beyond the reach of mere men. "Go," a voice had said, and I stepped into the water, aware that while I couldn't swim, I could not fail to reach the tower. I had taken one last bubbling breath before the dream faded and I saw black.

I had the distinct impression that I had slept a long time, and I felt better for it, regardless of the eerie qualities of my dream. Despite the dull throb of my injured foot, I felt strong and limber. I sat up in bed, only to tense like a feral cat in danger again.

By the open balcony was a young man, seated before a small table. He appeared to be studying the table intently, and hovered a hand above the table. I focused my eyes and noticed small wooden figurines. Though he looked down at the board, I caught a glimpse of a high forehead and a straight nose. His hair was undoubtedly the most prominent feature of his body however; it protruded above his head in a great mass of violet, black and gold locks, arranged in an angular fashion about his head. A glint of a golden headpiece caught my eye. _Perhaps he is one of the priests here? _I wondered, brushing a dark lock of hair back from my own forehead.

At this moment, he looked up, and a pair of deep violet eyes arrested any further movement on my part. They were set in an angular face, nearly heart shaped. A dark shadow seemed to lay across his countenance, marked by a furrowed brow and a determined set of his mouth. For a moment a chill caressed my spine, but when his eyes met mine, a smile broke across his lips and reached into his eyes.

"Good morning," he said, in a voice that at once was powerfully commanding and yet gentle. "I trust you've rested well?"

I nodded, unsure of my voice.

"Come, join me." He motioned me over, and I rose from the bed. Isis' sheath still hung loosely about my bony frame, and I bunched the fabric of the skirt up to avoid tripping. A second chair sat before him, and I slid into the seat, keeping my eyes demurely low.

"What is your name?" I asked. My voice was still rough from sleep, and cracked mid-sentence. The man smiled and rose, crossing the room to a stand with a pitcher and goblets. He poured a moderate amount of a dark liquid, then crossed back, handing me the goblet before taking his seat again. I noted his clothes as he had poured the glass: starched white linen, obviously a finer texture and quality than the roughly spun fabric I was used to, the fabric pulled into a traditional kilted fashion. A light cloak of deep purple hung about his shoulders, fluid about his back and falling to mid-knee. Sandals of a dark brown leather laced up muscular calves.

"You may call me Atem." He smiled again, and I took a sip from the goblet. The wine was cool and tart, and I smiled back.

"Thank you," I said shyly. "I am Kisara." I looked down at the table before us and saw a board marked out, three by ten squares, and a handful of pieces scattered across the board.

"Have you played Senet before, Kisara?" Atem asked. I started and blushed, looking back up.

"No, I've... I've never had the chance to learn."

"It's a fairly simple game," Atem began, "with each player having five pieces. The object is to move all of your pieces across the board, without allowing your opponent do the same." While I sipped my wine, Atem began to explain the various rules and moves that one could make.

"So from this square, I must throw a three to move off?" I queried, holding up the piece in question.

"Correct," he replied, sounding satisfied that I had caught on so quickly. I set the piece back down and as Atem reached again for the throwing sticks, our hands brushed slightly. The slight touch set off goosebumps up and down my arms, and I pulled my hand away quickly, asking a question to deflect his attention.

"You must play very often, yes?"

"It is a favorite at court, and I must admit, I do not care to lose. It does me good to practice like this," he said with a bashful grin.

"You are at court? You live in the palace?" Any rapport from the game I felt slip away. Obviously Atem was some sort of noble or perhaps a vizier. And teaching Senet to a beggar girl?

"Yes." I could see he was choosing his words carefully. "But I like to get away from the palace when I can."

"What brings you here?"

"I came here to speak with the High Priests last night, and before I could return, the floods struck. Of course I could not travel through the high waters, so I spent the night here. And what of yourself? Surely a similar story?" He looked up at me, his eyes questioning.

"I... I suppose you could say that," I lied feebly. "I was caught in the storm as well, and came here to seek shelter."

"Where in the city do you live?" he asked casually.

Before I could think of an answer, the door behind us opened, and Isis entered the room. The litheness of her stride reminded me of stories of a panther, with the feline grace of her movements.

"Good morning, Kisara. I trust you slept well?" she asked pleasantly. At my nod, she continued. "And I see that our Pharaoh has perhaps been teaching you Senet?"

"Pharaoh?" I gasped and turned to Atem. "You're _Pharaoh_ Atem? Pharaoh Ankhenatem?" My eyes widened with the shock.

He smiled graciously, and nodded in assent. "I am indeed."

"But... but," I stammered, unable to form a sentence. Had I really just learned a board game from the pharaoh? The pharaoh was the closest living being to the gods, closer even than the priests themselves. His prayers rang first and foremost in their ears. And here I was, Kisara, a street rat, in his presence?

I did the only thing I knew I could do well. Or at least I tried. I pushed back from the table and past Isis, bolting out the door. I hadn't, however, remembered my injury on my foot, and had hardly made it through the doorway before I fell and cracked my head on the smooth marble.

"Kisara?" Isis turned me on my back, and through stars, I saw her concerned blue eyes looking anxiously down on me. I felt a hand grasp mine, and Atem came into my field of vision as well.

"Are you hurt?" The concern in his voice surprised me. I shook my head and the stars seemed to fade; propping up on my elbows, I rose up slightly.

"I don't think so," I said cautiously, trying to isolate each ache. There would be a knot on my forehead and my foot throbbed, but beyond that, I didn't seem to be injured anywhere else.

Atem tightened his grip on my hand and helped me to my feet. "Here, lean on me," he commanded, and gingerly, I accepted his arm. Too many thoughts clouded my mind.

"Perhaps you should return to bed?" Isis suggested, gesturing back into the room.

"No!" The word burst from me, and even I was surprised at my refusal.

"Kisara, you obviously are injured," Isis began, before I cut her off.

"Why me? Why now?" I was embarrassed that I had spoken, but knew that I had to explain myself. "I'm not ungrateful, but I've never had anyone seem to care for me in my life. I'm a beggar! A street-rat! What do the Pharaoh and a Priestess want with me?" Tears, as always when I grew frustrated or angry, rolled down my cheeks and I pulled away from Atem. He let me go, but held out a steadying arm as I stared them down. There was a pregnant pause, before Atem broke the silence.

"Perhaps we should sit down and talk?" He spoke with a sense of defeat.

Isis nodded, and looked to me. Stubbornly, I refused both the arms they offered and led the way back into the room. Seating my self on the bed, I looked expectantly at Isis and Atem as they sat in the chairs from the Senet table.

There was another stiff silence as we all avoided each others' eyes before I spoke again. "I apologize," I began shortly. "I did not mean to speak so. You have only been kind here." My voice broke, and I cleared my throat. "I simply have never lived off the kindness of others. Else I would never have gone hungry, or slept in alleyways, or..."

"No one ever wants something for nothing," Atem said sagely. I nodded in agreement.

"Kisara, please do not think we are asking anything in payment. As a priestess, I am here for the people," Isis said sympathetically. "I serve as their voice to the gods, and in return I do their work, feeding the hungry and tending the ill."

"Why then did Pharaoh come to my room?" I asked, still unsure.

"My story was true," Atem said. "I was here this past night to speak with the High Priests. Alas, the Senet board was in this room, and rather than possibly wake you with moving it, I decided to play in here." He smiled, and I looked away, shame still heavy in my chest.

"You are a very interesting girl, Kisara," Atem continued, "and clever. It took you no time at all to pick up on Senet. And Isis... she has a sense of people."

"Your _kaa_ is as intriguing as you are," Isis interrupted, and I was slightly struck. She could interrupt the Pharaoh? "I believe that if you were given proper instruction, you might be able to become a powerful mage one day, perhaps a High Priestess if you desired."

I sat there, thunderstruck.

"I understand that this is perhaps too much for you to think about at once." Isis stood and straightened her dress. "I am inviting you to stay at the temple indefinitely, and should you decide you wish to stay, we would be delighted. You could live here, learn from myself and the other priests here."

"At the very least, you must stay until you are well," Atem added, standing as well.

"For now, I will send a tray up so that you may eat a little, and let you think things over." With that, Isis and Atem turned, making to leave.

"Wait!" I called as Isis was about to shut the door.

"Yes?" she asked, a soft smile curving her lips.

"I have a dream about an ivory tower, which stands in the middle of a lake," I blurted out. "What does it mean?"

She schooled her face carefully, but not quickly enough for me to miss her eyebrows twitch. "I haven't a clue, Kisara. Rest well. We shall speak of it later." The door closed behind her with a quiet click.

* * *

It might have been hours later, but my head still swam. Isis, true to her word, had sent the boy Djed up with a tray, laden with fruits, breads and a few pieces of meat. After only a few bites, though, I had turned away.

None of it made sense to me, that I could perhaps be a mage or priestess in the making? I would be foolish to turn down such an opportunity, but a lifetime of begging and stealing had made me wary. Things that appear to be too good to be true usually are. So why this no strings attached offer of schooling? And a home?

I had never been truly faithful to the gods. Surely I believed in them, but more often than not, I simply invoked them more in foul oaths than prayer. I had a different, cynical perspective: if we all prayed for wealth and happiness and more in our lives, and the gods answered these calls, why were so many still in poverty? Why did babes die in their mothers' arms? Why did crops fail and people starve? Surely no benevolent gods would allow such things to happen.

But the events of the past day seemed to conflict with these solid tenets I held. It seemed to be fate that had led me here, and fate that had led Priest Seth into the rain to save me. Perhaps this was fated, my destiny? To be led here, to benefit from whatever I could.

The door opened, interrupting my train of thought. But instead of Isis or Pharaoh Atem, I saw Priest Seth.

"Hello," I greeted him, as he came and sat in the chair Atem had occupied earlier.

"I came to see that you were still alive," he said, his voice conveying the fatigue I saw on his face. Dark circles ringed his eyes, and beneath his headdress, his hair was mussed.

"I am. It would take more than a small cut to kill me," I said, slightly bemused. "What have you been attending to? You look exhausted."

"There are many more like you. Isis has had me bandaging and setting limbs and wiping noses since you arrived last night."

"Last night? That was hours ago. Why don't you rest?"

He glanced at me as though I was daft. "If such wounds healed themselves, I wouldn't be needed at all."

I fell silent for a moment and Seth closed his eyes. Against the dark of his lashes, his skin suddenly seemed paler.

"Thank you, for saving my life." I looked down, fingering a lock of hair that fell over my shoulder. "I cannot swim, and I would have drowned if you hadn't fished me out."

"You would have righted yourself." His eyelids fluttered, but didn't open. I didn't have an answer to that, and sat there, twisting the hair around my finger before another thought popped into my head.

"How did you become a priest?" I asked, curious.

"I was the bastard child of a woman at court, and my father never acknowledged me," he said, brutally honest. "She died giving birth and a priest who knew her said I should be raised in the palace and brought up to become a priest."

"I am... sorry." The words fell flat. In fact I was stunned; to not know one's father was a blemish I was very familiar with. "I don't know my father either."

"My mother's family was wealthy, so that can help gloss over other less appealing factors. Here at least I never need marry, and I have some sway with Pharaoh, so I can see good done in Egypt." He opened his eyes and fixed me with a piercing blue stare. "Isis has invited you to stay, hasn't she?"

"Yes," I replied, startled. "How did you know?"

"I know Isis," he stated. "She has a way of seeing things, what choices will be most beneficial. The Pharaoh relies on her sometimes, and she likes to look at the big picture, what will be good in the long run, even things are upended in the meantime. Don't trust her completely." He cocked his head to the side and peered intently at me. I blushed under his gaze, and looked away.

"You're not an idiot," Seth said finally, "and even I can tell that you've got a strong _kaa._ You're not meant for street life, so I suppose this is best."

"What do you mean, a strong _kaa_? Isis said that as well."

"Your presence. Your soul. Perhaps you have seen people and simply known they are wicked? It is their _kaa_ you are sensing," Seth explained. "The same can be said of those who are pure and good of heart. Yours seems to be exceptionally pure and whole. You might have survived on the streets but I don't believe that is your destiny."

Destiny. I rolled the thought around for a moment before I spoke again.

"I can't help but feel like they will expect something for this. Some sort of payment," I confessed. "I know I should be grateful for the chance they're offering, but I don't want to find out it comes at a price I cannot pay."

"As I said, you're not an idiot." Seth leaned forward. "Who is they?"

"Isis and Pharaoh Atem."

At that, his eyebrows disappeared into his messy hair. "Atem was here?"

I nodded, suddenly wishing that I had not spoken.

"Then Isis does have a sort of plan in place, and Atem knows at least that there is a plan." Seth suddenly leaned forward and took my hand. Our eyes met, blue on blue. "They won't ask anything you cannot give back, but you may not want to part with their price," he cautioned. I felt his pulse skipping at his wrist. "Be wary, but you'll never have another chance like this."

"Will you help me?" I asked, aware of how alone I might be. I tightened my grip on his hand slightly.

He smiled stiffly, and let go of my hand. "I can keep an eye on you," he offered, "but don't expect me to save your life again." Despite his lack of commitment, I still felt degrees safer.

"Then thank you, again," I replied quietly.

As he rose, a final terrifying thought occurred to me. "You weren't sent by Isis to persuade me, were you?"

"Would it do you any good to know that?" Like Isis before, he paused in the doorway and looked back at me. "But it does sound like you've made a decision." And with that, he left, shutting the door behind him.

_Author's Notes:_

Thank, thank, thank you for everyone who wrote such lovely reviews. Please know that while I worked on this chapter, every time I wanted to hit my head on the keyboard, I instead read your kind words and worked on.

As before, please point out grammar and spelling, as well as any inconsistencies. I can only read over this so many times before my eyes and head explode. I shall attempt to fix them when I have a moment.

And as for formatting errors, please be patient. The editor has been fond of destroying my formatting as I upload these chapters and then laughing when I try to fix it.

Thank you again. See you soon.


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